I Should Tell You
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: Erik didn't want to ruin the precious family moment between Raven and Charles, but he needed to tell Charles before he lost his courage /again./ .:. a cute, fluffy little Cherik drabble set during First Class.


**A/N: Prompt from Tumblr, again by theonionistheonewhocries: "Erik didn't want to ruin the precious family moment between Raven and Charles but he needed to tell Charles before he lost his courage; again."**

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><p>It's a never-ending cycle.<p>

Erik thinks of the only love he has ever gotten in his life, then he thinks of what he's receiving now, which makes him think of Charles, then he thinks that he might love Charles — truly love him, romantic and with concern and care and everything deep and sordid and beautiful that exists in the metalbender's steel heart — and then he thinks that he should tell Charles what he feels, in case something happens along the road later and makes everything moot.

But, at the last second, he chickens out, his courage failing him and dwindling to nothing, and the cycle begins all over again.

Because one moment seems well and fine, but then he and Charles will get into an argument, or someone will need to talk to Charles, or Charles will have an errand or task to perform instead, or a great many other small things, and just like that, the moment isn't right for a confession, so Erik slips away under the radar, never to try again.

And then he _does _try again. And again. And again.

Finally, the night before they are to take the jet out to meet up against Shaw, Erik thinks, _Now or never, _because who knows what will happen tomorrow? Someone could get hurt, or die, or Erik himself could be that someone, and he would rather Charles at least _know _what he feels for him instead of blowing it off like they are only friends. Because to Erik, they_aren't._

So, with a decidedly deep, slow, hesitant breath, Erik goes to knock on Charles' bedroom door.

But the door is slightly ajar, and he can hear voices trailing between the crack to reach his ears like ghost hands slipping around his head.

It's Raven and Charles speaking to one another, Raven with intense, careful tones, and Charles with soft, reassuring ones.

"…You know, I almost went and waited for Erik in his bedroom, naked in his bed? Just to feel beautiful? And I almost took the cure, too, the one that Hank made for how I look. I don't even know if it would work, but what if it had? I don't want to hide, Charles. I'm tired of feeling ugly and unwanted."

She's weeping, he can hear it in her breathy voice, and he frowns a bit, thinking, _How would I have reacted if she had been in my bed? Would I have kissed her and sent her on her way to make her feel better?_

He hears Charles' response. The telepath's voice is clear and strong as he responds, "I'm glad you didn'tdo that, Raven. Sexual things don't boost one's confidence; they often make things worse, and I don't know how Erik would have felt about that. I am proud of you, though; you didn't take the cure. That took immense bravery, and it was very honest with yourself."

She sniffles, and Erik can hear the rustling of fabric, like one of them leaning into the other, embracing. He imagines Charles stroking her hair — blonde or red at the moment? — and he imagines her clinging to him.

It sounds heart-warming, and like a precious family moment between siblings.

And that would be all well and good if Erik wasn't slowly losing his courage again, and desperately needed to tell Charles this time before it was too late.

So, while he heard a few more words be exchanged — the phrase "mutant and proud" in there somewhere, and a breathless laugh of relief coming from Raven — Erik cleared his throat and moves away, debating with himself.

Should he appear as though he was just walking toward Charles' room when Raven emerges, or should he walk away, retreating to his own bedroom?

He settles for the former once Raven shows her face and assumes as much. She's blue, wrapped in a fleece robe, and blank-faced, dry tear tracks on her cheeks. "Oh! Erik. Hey."

"Hey."

"…Did you want to talk to Charles about something? Your room isn't around here," she poses, cocking her head slightly, her tone cool and strong, and she isn't the same Raven he knew earlier today.

He clears his throat. "Ah, yes. I did want to speak to him. Are you off to bed?"

"Yeah. Well, you better get in there; he's about to go to sleep. See you tomorrow," she says casually, and paces down the hall in her bare feet, and Erik exhales slowly.

He taps softly on Charles' still ajar door.

"It's open; come in," replies Charles' voice. He doesn't glance up from peeling back his bedsheets when he says, "Something on your mind, Erik?"

"If you know it's me, then you must know what I'm thinking, Charles," the metalbender retorts carefully, stepping around to shut the door and seat himself in an armchair near the large windows in Charles' bedroom.

"No, I only recognized your knock. No one else in this house knocks like you do," Charles says with a slight grin. "And you know I don't like to pry. It's one of the few thrills I have: playing the guessing game instead of cheating and getting the answers all the time. So tell me, my friend: what are you thinking?"

"I would rather say it to your face," he says, and Charles turns around from fussing with his blankets and unbuttoning his vest to look Erik in the eye. Erik stands and stands in front of Charles, barely a foot away. He reaches down and unbuttons the final two that Charles skipped, and he tugs the vest from Charles' shoulders. It falls to the floor, and their eyes move upward in unison until they meet, Erik peering down the height difference between them. "…I love you," he whispers.

Charles' eyes search Erik's own for an everlasting moment, and the air feels thick with a sort of tension that Erik had never felt before. He's felt the stale tension of an awkward silence; he's felt the raw tension of a pre-kill or any sort of resentment; and he's felt the unnerving tension of lust. But never has he felt a tension like this, one that precedes acceptance or rejection.

When Charles smiles brightly and warmly, it's like the heavens parting on a particularly cloudy day to let the brilliant sunshine through. His laugh is like a chiming of bells, amused and lighthearted. "Honestly, Erik. You look so frightened; when have I ever given you reason to doubt that I don't already know and feel the same for you in return?"

And Erik makes a puzzled expression for the blink of an eye before he's smiling and laughing, too, his body relaxing, the tension ebbing, and his fears extinguished. He raises his hands to grasp Charles' shoulders, and he brings the other man's body close to his and kisses his hair. "Thank God."

The shorter mutant sighs and wraps his arms around Erik's waist. "It took you so long; more than once I had been tempted to break the ice and say it myself, but I thought I ought to leave this one to you, because I didn't want to rush anything."

"Rush? It's been a slow waste of time. We _should _have rushed things. And now I fear we might be running out of time…" Erik remarks mournfully, closing his eyes and breathing in the telepath's scent.

"What are you talking about? We have time. Fret not, my friend. We'll make it through tomorrow, and many years to come. For now, I'm just glad that you finally mustered the guts to say what I've been feeling emit from you for over a week now."

Erik chuckles, and brings Charles forward, lifting him up slightly, and kissing him on the lips, chaste and loving. "Your optimism is one of many reasons why I love you, you know."

Charles laughs. "I know." He touches Erik's face, about to draw him in for another kiss. "And your honesty with solely me is one of the reasons why I love you in return; it shows real trust, and I honor that." And there it is, the second kiss, and it's all Erik had dreamed it might be.

And at least, now, the cycle is broken.


End file.
